Blue Moon to Baker's Dozen
by Ayoshen
Summary: For some, the truth is worth living for. For me, it isn't. 13/Cameron. Warning: STRONG themes of suicide. Read at your own risk.
1. The Alley Cat

**Author's Quite Important Note:** This is possibly one of the most messed up things I have ever written. Thus, I have to ask you not to read this if you can't handle **STRONG THEMES OF SUICIDE and general epic angst**. For the love of God, don't.

**As always, English is not my native language.** (Fun fact, while rereading this, I found out I had mistakenly written 'superstitious' instead of 'superficial'. Sometimes I hate you, English. Sincerely, the ones trying to remember all the words.)

**Warning:** Seriously. It's dangerous to go alone. Take this. *hands you a kitty*

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Part 1: The Alley Cat

So here I am. I never thought it could be this easy. When I was leaving the hospital, there was no one to engage in polite, superficial chit-chat with me. When I was unlocking my car, there was no one in need of a ride home. When I stepped over the threshold, there was no one to welcome me and pull me into a hug. When I opened the bottle, there was no one to stop my hands.

Now I'm lying on the floor and it's getting colder every second. The tiles are like ice under my head and the light is like a cobweb on my face. There is no blood, no; I've seen enough of blood for a lifetime, I don't need to depart with it. No, silence is all there is, a friend I have come to admire highly during these last few months. Years, perhaps. It devoured me before I had a chance to realize or fight back. I noticed it for the first time when Chase's bitter remarks stopped cutting so deep, and gradually, they became no more than scratches over old scars. I grew numb, and I am grateful, because numbness of body gives space to the mind it tends to rule over.

Is it true that the more you think, the more upset you grow? It is for me, but I believe I barely uncovered the truth, the truth that the world is spoiled. It took time. Day after day after day, I kept believing that good existed, that things would work out and the good guys would win. I was pathetic and naïve, but naïvety is what's kept me alive. Then couples broke up and it was my fault. Experiments were performed on babies and I didn't act. People's lies resurfaced in all their glory. People died, and it was _my fault_.

For some, the truth is worth living for. For me, it isn't.

My mother used to tell me that snow is just tears of angels who mourn for the dying land. I look out of the window and see snowflakes descending peacefully. I slowly tilt my head in wonder; suddenly, I wish I had done this outside and could, for the last time, taste heaven. It's too late now.

If I were to be self-centered enough, I'd say the angels are crying for me. Then again, their tears are but a fairytale.

Still, it doesn't hurt to be, just one more time, the innocent little girl I used to be before he changed even the core of my being. One last time, I promise. They are out there. They're watching. They're sad. I never meant to make them sad and I feel a glimpse of remorse in my chest. I want to apologize but I'm too weak to even mutter the words: _"I'm sorry."_

Passion rules reason. Ignorance is bliss. Pride goes before a fall. Hundreds of arbitrary rules that men made to give sense to the rotten behavior of the universe. It works just as well without our pointless laws but we stick to them and defend them because they make things easier as a rule of thumb. I looked past those rules and saw blackness.

Disregard the remaining amount of light outside, it's getting late. Too late to undo what's been done, too late to step back. I'm tired. Good night, Princeton. Sweet dreams to me.


	2. The Lone Wolf

Part 2: The Lone Wolf

So here I am. Blood trickles down my wrist and what do I do? I laugh. I laugh, looking up at the ceiling. You didn't see that coming, did you? I surpassed ya, you big old unfair bastard. People will think I was crazy; you'll think I was crazy. There's a possibility that I am. But you know, it's your fault. You made me who I am, so don't act all innocent and sweet; I won't let myself be deceived by your continuous lies, not again. You made my mother stupid enough to deliver a sick child. You made me have to live in fear all my life. You made me do all the things I did.

Now, I am aware I've had more fun than most people, but it comes with a price. The fun kind of fades away in the morning when you're alone and naked in your bed with a nasty headache and you look at your hands and beg them not to tremble. Not to seem ungrateful, but I've had my share of fun.

I was but a puppet on a string, your string, for twenty-six long years. It's time to turn things around. This time, I'll be the player. It's my turn. I don't give a damn whether I throw a six or a one, whether I go to heaven or hell or fucking Valhalla. I stopped caring an eternity ago. I don't know what exactly your plans for me were, but it's over, and when I get there, I'm gonna kick your ass good.

All I ever wanted was freedom and now I finally have it. Sure, it's just for a few minutes, but the incredible irony in all this is that I feel better than ever. Of course, I'm in pain and I can barely see and I can't feel my limbs by now, but I'm free! It's not fiction, it's not a delusion, it's real. It's a miracle.

Hey… are you mad at me? You should be, but if you're the all-encompassing goody two-shoes, you shouldn't. Then again I've pretty much done everything you hate. I guess that is a good enough reason.

I know there are billions of people in worse situations than I am who are still able to enjoy life. I'm just not one of those people. So what, are you going to kill me for that? Heh, no, you're not, because you can't! Okay, that was a lame joke. Maybe I really am crazy. But although I'm a fool, I'm a happy fool. You can't take that from me.

I should probably be pondering the fundamental laws of the universe during these last few moments but I see no reason for regretful melodrama. That's all I've had in life; entertainment. That's all I'm gonna have in death. Just a small talk with the imaginary can't hurt. Whoops, I did it again!

I have one important thing to say, though. I'm not exactly sure how to put this, but I want you to know that I… I'm glad you didn't take Spencer. It was the lesser evil. You seem to grant justice to everyone but me. I'm not going to hold a grudge; my life is a game and you know I like playing games. I also know when to accept defeat.

Well played, sir, well played. Be careful, however, because there will be another round soon. I'll see you on the other side.

House will probably say he had seen it coming and that I'd always been an idiot. I wish I could be there to see it.


	3. To Helicon and Back

Part 3: To Helicon and Back

"_Thirty-one year old female, wolfed down a bottle of __Nembutal. Get us a room where we can do a lavage."_

"_Twenty-six year old female, cut her wrists.__ She has tachycardia. BP's 80/40. A transfusion is inevitable; get us some blood, stat!"_

"_Oh God, is that Dr. Cameron? Will there be a new boss?"_

"_Oh my God, it's Thirteen! Thirteen, can you hear me?"_

"_Shut up and move the damn cart, we've got to save her first!"_

"_Get out of the way, Dr. Kutner. You can't get involved in this."_

"_House! Cameron and Thirteen are in the ER!"_

"_So? Unless one of them got hit in the head while making sweet love to the other, I am not interested."_

"_They tried to commit suicide. Both. House? House!"_

"_Women are idiots."_

_

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_Interesting how you can see random pictures on a snow white wall, isn't it? Why that is the first thing that comes to her mind when she wakes up, she doesn't know. She certainly wasn't expecting to see the reserved but familiar walls of this place anytime soon. Oh, that spot kind of looks like a stethoscope!

"Why did you do it?"

A simple five word past tense question, and a perfectly appropriate one at that. She starts to make up the words, trying to figure out a way to put this, when she realizes she doesn't know who's asking. She thinks she's heard the voice before but can't put a face to it. It's rather deep, calm and completely ingenuous. After a while she gives up and turns her head to look in the general direction of its possessor. For some reason, she doesn't find the situation weird. To her, it makes sense, like morning dew. There's nothing but two women in a hospital room. It happens.

A different thing surprises her, however. "There's no one here."

The brunette never averts her eyes from the whiteness, either. She isn't offended by the statement; she knows the meaning. "Would you expect someone to be here?"

It's quiet. Tick tock. Time runs in slowmotion but it still wins the race. "I suppose I would." Cameron's heart sank. Her eyes find the bandages on her colleague's wrists. "You…?" She lets the unspoken question linger in the air between them.

"Yeah. You too."

"How can you be so mechanical about it?" the blonde asks incredulously.

Suddenly it doesn't seem so natural anymore. There are two very confused women in a hospital room, trying to match up words and definitions. If it makes sense, it is nothing but a reflection of them giving up on trying to comprehend. But sooner or later, they try again.

Finally, Thirteen looks at her companion with the same stone cold expression, but the emerald green says otherwise. Cameron sees an image of herself; a dark, neverending maze of fear and uncertainty about the most trivial matters. A pandemonium.

"I don't know."

And they stare at one another for what feels like eternity, looking for someone, finding themselves. The important thing is that they're both watching, breathing, alive. 'Alive' seems like a relative term right now.

"You didn't answer," Thirteen speaks.

"Oh." Silence. Cameron opens her mouth a couple times, as if going to say something, then closes it again as she struggles to find the right sentences. Long? Short? Simple? Complicated? Does she even know? "I… I've lost hope." Frankly, she doesn't want to hear the younger doctor's response to the same question. She is curious, sure, but consideration prevents her from adding a 'what about you' to that sentence.

Thirteen looks away and chuckles. "I'm sorry, there's nothing funny about that. Can you imagine, though, that I, on the other hand, just wanted to decide something for myself? Now it sounds ridiculous," she says and continues to laugh a bitter, humorless laugh. Tears threaten to fall, but she holds them back. "And I couldn't. Not even once. There's nothing I can change about my life, and there's nothing I can change about my death." Her voice breaks.

"Do you believe in God?" Cameron asks.

Thirteen ponders the thought, twisting the sheets between her fingers. "I guess you can't be angry at him and not believe in him at the same time."

"And you think he's almighty and that he's got power over every aspect of your existence, so you need the illusion of control to feel free…" the blonde analyzes out loud. Thirteen looks at her with disbelief. "Remy," she pauses for a second seeing as she used the other woman's name for the first time, "You _are_ free. You have wings to fly on."

"Look at me! I'm dying and I can't even slow it down. How am I free?" the brunette hisses angrily, her whole body shaking.

"'The lover wants what he does not have. It is by definition impossible for him to have what he wants if, as soon as it is had, it is no longer wanted.' You can live if you still want to. Your only enemy is your mind. Free it from its chains and you'll be free. You don't know whether God's there; he's someone you put the blame on. Say, hypothetically, maybe he doesn't influence everything or maybe he's not even there. Whom have you been fighting all these years? I'm not trying to impose my convictions on you. I just want you to realize that whether or not a supernatural being shapes our lives, as long as you're here, your actions and your thoughts are your decisions and yours only. Your responsibility. It's up to you what you do with that power; just know that you have it." She takes a deep breath. "Say if, for example, you wanted to kill me right now, not even God could stop you, because all it takes is one simple decision. Then again, maybe that's what he wants. You can't know why things happen. They just do. And every decision you ever make has an impact or something. I can't tell you if the result was God's intent or not, but it was you who acted. It was you who took a stand. No one else."

She feels exhausted, like she's said all she could possibly say in a lifetime.

Remy lets the words sink in, trying to understand Cameron's perspective. "I don't want to kill you," she whispers.

It is now that she realizes that somewhere during the last few minutes, while making the gears in her brain spin like crazy, Cameron has managed to move and sit on the side of Thirteen's bed. "And right back to the old Cameron you go, trying to set things right. Unbelievable. You know, you speak awfully wisely for someone stuck in the ICU."

It's Cameron's turn to chuckle for no apparent reason. "I'm upset because I think we are too free, and I know I can't set things right. Talk about irony." She reverts back from 'Messiah Cameron' to 'messed up Cameron' in a matter of seconds. She's hurting. She's heartbroken. She sobs.

And then, without thinking or saying a word, Remy tugs at her sleeve and pulls her down next to herself. She pulls the covers over her and looks into the cobalt blue orbs for consent. When she gets it, she embraces Cameron, who instinctively buries her head in Thirteen's neck. They hold each other, they look at each other, and then, suddenly, their lips meet. Time stops. They don't need to say 'I'm sorry' nor 'Thank you' nor 'I love you'. They already have.

It makes perfect sense, like morning dew. There's nothing but two women, shattered and put together again, wrapped up in a gentle kiss in a hospital room. It happens.

They don't care there might as well be half of the unit staring at the two of them through the glass; that's a whole different world out there. In here, the only thing left to say is that had they not both been broken, had they not gotten so miserable at the same time, had Chase and the random girl coming back for her jacket not found them, or had there been more rooms in the hospital, none of this would have happened. God works in mysterious ways indeed. God? Thirteen smiles slightly. Perhaps he's not all bad. Perhaps all they needed was a change of perspective.

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**Author's Less Important Note:** You made it! I salute you, reader. Hey, at least I gave it a happy ending, that gets me some plus points, right?

The "you can't be angry with God and not believe in him at the same time" ideology stolen from House season 1 episode 5, Damned If You Do, one of my favorites. The "it is by definition impossible for him to have what he wants" part is... actually I have no idea where it's from, I heard it on The L Word. *cough*


End file.
